


we are young

by sonatine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, all these genius skaters are just kids really, let them live, ps he actually cares a lot. about everything., yuri loves his dads, yuri loves skating but loves his reputation more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonatine/pseuds/sonatine
Summary: Sometimes it's easy to forget how young these world champions are, relatively speaking.Or: Yurio loves his dads.





	

Sometimes Yuri hates his dads.

He also hates that he thinks of them as his dads but really, family mentors in his life consist of his grandpa — a stodgy cold war holdover whose idea of fatherly advice consists of putting bread on the table — and a cousin somewhere out in the outskirts of Kiev.

So it's easy to forget how young Yuuri and Viktor are, relatively speaking.

In terms of ice skating they are old, which is a ludicrous sentiment for anyone who looks like Viktor coming out of the shower (or pouting like a child). 

But Georgi and Mila throw around ‘old man’ and ‘grandpa’ to Viktor on a daily basis, like he hasn't just started needing to shave regularly.

(Yakov usually calls him ‘hey you’ or ‘you fool’ which pretty much work interchangeably.)

Also it cannot be ignored that on the ice, Viktor is serious as death. He hides it, behind glamour and grace, but strip the glitter away and you'll see the 80-hour work week he puts into his performance.

Though the same could be argued for any of them, really. The other day waiting in line for ramen, he heard two girls behind him chatting about some American show.

“I watched eighteen episodes in one day,” the girl said sheepishly.

“I once watched three seasons in one weekend,” said the other.

Yuri missed the guy behind the counter shouting at him for his order because he was glued to the floor. Yuri couldn't remember the last time he watched a TV show that wasn't _The Munsters_ , on Christmas Eve, with his grandpa.

Really, Yuri can't remember doing anything that isn't skating. There's only so many hours in a day and only so many years before your body starts to decay, so who has time for all the fluff?

Yuri’s cousin in Kiev, who is a _graduate student_ , ostensibly, which as far as Yuri can figure means arguing a lot about the order of words in a book and whether fictional people are gay or not, is Victor’s age, and doesn't know how to wash a dish.

(Admittedly, it is debatable as to whether Viktor knows how to wash a dish either, but he is a groundbreaking world-champion five times over. Who needs to wash a dish when you can quad a flip.)

So Yuri will be damned to listen to said cousin on the phone wail at him for ten minutes about asking out a boy.

“It's _my_ birthday,” Yuri tells his grandpa. “Why do _I_ have to suffer through this phone call?”

“Family is the most important,” his grandpa says and shoves the phone at him.

“He’s really cute, this Kazakh boy,” Yuri’s cousin is saying. “You guys looked pretty chummy-chummy on the competition coverage.”

Yuri makes a terrible noise.

“He's the only person I've ever seen you smile at! You never smile at anyone. Your mom was the same way, she would just walk away from conversations she didn't like, but with your dad—”

Yuri ends the call and hands the phone to his grandpa.

“Got disconnected,” he says. “Going to the rink.”

His grandpa sighs.

  
Everything is clearer on the ice. Clearer as to why he does he he does. Expertise takes time and patience and dedication. Everything else just becomes white noise, stuffing coming out of a pillow.

Yuri can kind of understand Viktor’s fascination with Yuuri. He's not a complete idiot. He knows how he feels different when with Otabek — calm, for once — less anxious.

But to throw away everything Viktor has worked for all these years, for so long—

What a waste?

“Vitya,” Yakov roars from the sidelines, and that's when you know you're in trouble: he only uses terms of affection when he wants the knife to stick. “Stop flirting with your husband and get back to warming up!”

“Yakooooov,” Viktor whines, though anyone with a modicum of vision or hearing could see he's unbothered. His thumb is still stroking the side of Yuuri’s neck.

“When you tear a ligament and can't compete,” says Yakov, “I will laugh at you in your hospital bed.”

But Viktor obeys, because he knows Yakov is right, and also Yuuri would never even unconsciously do something to harm Viktor’s career. One time he woke up, having sleepwalked to the closet to replace the laces on Viktor’s skates.

Viktor likes to repeat this story daily and with great relish.

“Yurochka,” Yakov says, towering over the bench on which Yuri is resting, FaceTiming Otabek. “Where is Viktor?”

“Forget to lock your dog gate again, Yakov?” replies Yuri, although he fully heard Viktor tell him, five minutes previously, that he and Yuuri were playing hooky during break to go for a walk on the pier.

“Softy,” Otabek says through his headphones.

Yuri kills two birds with one stone and flips both him and Yakov off simultaneously. The efficiency pleases him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/155768161609/we-are-young)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ice ice baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299795) by [spacestationtrustfund](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund)




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